


Song of the Fallen

by LazarusII



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Baby Luke, Child Luke Skywalker, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Order 66, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tatooine (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusII/pseuds/LazarusII
Summary: After the tragic events on Mustafar, Obi-Wan takes Luke to Tatooine, hoping to protect the boy from the Empire. That hope is shattered when they are discovered by a Sith outpost hidden beneath the city of Anchorhead.It’s simple: the Sith want Luke.And Obi-Wan will send anyone who touches the child straight to hell—if Ahsoka doesn't get to them first.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 47
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1 - [Part 1] - Exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic picks up right after the events of ROTS and the finale of the Clone Wars. 
> 
> Putting out a general trigger warning on this one: violence (as indicated above), anxiety, mental trauma, and PTSD-type stuff. Later in the story there could possibly be triggers for claustrophobia. In short, just expect a lot of angst. 
> 
> Also, I want to make it clear that the pacing is pretty slow in this fic, but will pick up over time. I tried to make the experiences of each character as realistic as possible within my ability. 
> 
> As for the overarching plot, do not expect a conventional "rising action," "climax," etc. This work will center around each character as their paths inevitably move towards a collision course. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!  
> ~LazarusII

* * *

PROLOGUE

* * *

**_[Somewhere in the near future]_ **

The homestead was in flames, blackened smoke rising from its domed rooftop. Soot-filled footprints encircled the dwelling, leading in and out of the partially-collapsed entrance. Obi-Wan's eyes traced the blackened mortar of the home, noting the long streaks where explosives had been carelessly tossed inside the building. 

Farther out, an orange-tinted speeder sat belly-up in the sand, its burned engine throwing sparks into the air like scarlet fireworks. Located within arm’s reach of the doomed machine lay a pair of still figures. At one point in time, the bodies had belonged to Owen and Beru Lars. Now they lay there, reduced to bones and ash charred beyond all hopes of identification as they smoldered beneath Tatooine’s twin suns. 

Surrounding the dwelling, the rest of Lars's machinery was in ruins. A vaporator had fallen, cleaved into two and cast aside like some abandoned toy, half-sunken into the sand. And not far from that sat a dying maintenance droid, choking on its own fried wiring, its air intake overrun with sand and oil which still dribbled down its heavily-damaged outer shell. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi surveyed the area from his dewback, expression solemn and controlled. He'd felt the Force cry out, calling to him with a hauntingly familiar melody of suffering and death. 

Silently, he reached out with the Force, scouring the homestead for Luke’s presence. 

Nothing. 

The boy was gone then, taken alive or…

_No._

A hand rose to stroke his beard. Every fiber in his being was telling him that Luke wasn’t dead... But was that enough? 

Fears whispered in his mind, pressing against his mental shields. 

There was no one left other than Luke. He’d lost everyone to the Sith, _everyone_.

Even before the great betrayal, darkness had slowly consumed those he considered family; one-by-one they'd been lost to become one with the Force, leaving him behind. 

_Qui-Gon Jinn._

_Satine._

_Ahsoka..._

_Anakin._

Only months ago, such an event would have emotionally set him over the breaking point. Now, the panic was within the means of control—barely. 

Obi-Wan’s hand fell to his hip, fingers brushing the cold cylindrical weapon there, the sole physical reminder of what had been lost on Mustafar. Images of his broken, corrupted brother filled his head and he quickly whisked his hand away from the lightsaber as if he had been burned. 

_Focus, Kenobi._

He dove into the Force, letting his consciousness expand about him like a pair of great wings. 

The light was faint, resonating from within himself and lacing itself about the homestead like a fading mist. Brow furrowing, he homed in on the small waves of energy, casually prodding it with his mind. 

After a few moments, he found what he’d been searching for: a darkness, deep and venomous. But it was a mere afterthought, a trace left by a being twisted by the Dark Side. 

His eyes narrowed at the horizon, following a distant trail of darkness left in the Force. For the first time in months, he knew exactly what had to be done. 

He had a purpose. 

_I will keep Luke safe._

_...No matter what the cost._

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

**_[Shortly After Mustafar]_ **

_The wind scorched his skin like fire and every breath was a searing pain to his lungs. Gasping for breath, he choked as the intense heat hit his throat. Tears sparked in his eyes as he gagged, fire scorching his insides. Through blurred vision, a deadly arc of blue approached, growing in size and intensity. A face was illuminated by the unnatural light, scarred, and twisted with rage._

_“Die.”_

||

It was like drowning slowly in deep water—but worse.

Obi-Wan’s heart twisted. He could see the orange glow in his mind's eye, the dark sand—the rocks—and feel the heat against his face. With every breath, he could feel the harsh smell of smoke and sulfur...

But more than anything, it was the face which haunted him the most, the shadowy form which flickered to life every time he blinked. 

Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader.

One and the same. 

Gone. 

His only company was the ghosts now, and they fed him only poison. Memories which revealed true weight of his failure. 

Anakin Skywalker had been his apprentice. His friend. 

But more than anything, he’d been family—a brother.

_I failed him._

It felt like a knife, twisting deep in his gut. 

Hardeen. 

The Chancellor. 

_I deceived him… I did my duty—to the Council._

Of all his regrets, that one stood out bitterly; the mission had been a sacrifice he’d made for a man playing a game. No, not just _a_ game, _the_ game... The only game that mattered, at any rate. Not the Clone Wars, not the Jedi, not the Republic. Only the Sith. 

Only the Empire. 

Had his own dream of happiness overshadowed reality? Had the war blinded him to those around him? Had he allowed himself to become so deeply entrenched in violence and death that he turned away from those closest to him?

Anakin. 

Ahsoka. 

Could he not have fought harder, to have pleaded with Anakin and Ahsoka to stay, for them to be a family.

Maybe if he, Obi-Wan Kenobi of the High Council, could've just told them how much they meant to him, things would have been different. Maybe Ahsoka wouldn't have distrusted him so, maybe she would've never left for Mandalore and come with them... and recognized the trap for what it was. 

_But it's already happened,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _It's done and there's no going back._

...

Behind his eyes, the fires rose higher into the sky, his blue blade coming up to meet the man who he'd trained—the man that was his brother. The dull thud of Anakin's body hitting the dark sands echoed in his ears far louder than possible—

_"I failed you Anakin, I have failed you!”_

Yes.

Yes, he had.

* * *

The room was dark when Obi-Wan pulled himself from meditation. 

Breathing slowly, he allowed himself to become once more acquainted with the ship around him. He opened his eyes, taking in the closed door before him—and the mirror mounted there.

A distorted reflection stared back, barely visible in the dim emergency lighting. Slowly, he rose, stepping off the small chair cushion he had been seated upon. The soft thrum of the small freighter filled the air, a welcome disturbance against the pressing silence.

Plain, gray walls surrounded him in a fifteen-by-fifteen cube. Along his right was a small dresser, spanning about half of the wall, piggybacking a small fresher. Though flimsy in construction and appearance, the piece of furniture was more than enough space for his few possessions.

Obi-Wan turned in the opposite direction, making his way to the bed. As he approached, a quiet gurgle emanated from a small bundle of blankets sitting atop the folded sheets. A hand curled around a fold of cloth, squeezing it with chubby, infant’s fingers.

The Force thrummed as Luke awakened, lighting up the Force like a beacon, just as his father used to.

Obi-Wan breathed in, shutting his eyes and reaching out into the Force, brushing against the child’s mind with his own. A soft, incoherent blubber of words met his ears and he could not help but chuckle. Feeling his way across the wall he finally found a small panel, pushing the first button he could find. The main room’s light flicked on, nearly blinding him.

Practically punching them back off, he tried the next button; the small reading lights over the bed turned on. A small cry echoed from the bed, clearly a complaint of the sudden change in brightness.

The bed was set into the wall several feet and Obi-Wan ducked to seat himself beside Luke, hunching slightly as to not bang his head on the ceiling. He pulled up his sleeve and slowly took one of the boy’s hands in his own. It was minuscule in comparison, just barely larger than the size of his thumb.

In those horrible few hours after Padme’s death, he had barely been able to even look at the child. The blue eyes had been so clear and piercing, just as they were now, but back then it had been as though Anakin were looking right back at him.

_Anakin._

Closing his eyes, for a moment, Obi-Wan felt pain ricochet through him. His heart hurt for the child, for the parents that the boy had just lost... Knowing Anakin and Padme, they would've fought and died for their children. They would have given both Luke and Leia the world... Anakin would likely have left the Order, and though Obi-Wan would've been saddened by his former-Apprentice's choice, he'd know that it would bring Anakin so much happiness... 

Happiness to be with his family. 

He let out a long breath. 

_His family..._

And yet he, Obi-Wan Kenobi could very well be the last one left. For a while, even in the midst of an intergalactic war, he, Anakin, Ahsoka, and even Padme and the Clones had been a family. 

_We all left. One-by-one until our family was gone._

He could still feel Ahsoka's conflict and anger in the Force, and hear her last words to him. _"Tell Anakin,"_ she'd said; he'd given her his word... 

Only, he hadn't been given a chance to. Like his former-Grandpadawan, they'd both counted on time being there for them, for the moments that passed to just be pieces of a puzzle that still had much left until its completion—that they had _time_. Counting seconds hadn't mattered until it was too late. 

_I was a fool..._

Slowly, he released Luke's hand. 

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, gently rearranging the circle of blankets that swathed the young Skywalker.

Grief threatened to swamp him, pushing through his mental shields as though they were made of glass. A vice of emotion gripped his throat. Sensing his discomfort, Luke whined and hugged himself, pulling at his blankets as though to bring them closer.

“It’s going to be alright, young one,” he whispered to the child, rubbing small circles into the boy’s palm with his thumb, “everything is going to be fine.”

It only took minutes for Luke to fall asleep once more, head lolling to the side as he blew a small spit-bubble out of the corner of his mouth. A half-smile crossed Obi-Wan’s face as he dabbed at it with the corner of his robe. After redoing the blankets for the second time in five minutes, he stood, stretching stiff muscles. His joints popped and cracked, making him wince.

_I’m getting old._

Obi-Wan harrumphed at his own wit and made his way into the refresher, shrugging off his robe onto the dresser as he passed. As he flicked on the light he was greeted his own tired, scraggly reflection in the mirror. Bail had commented on him “looking like hell,” before leaving. This being the first time that he’d actually bothered to look at himself, he had to agree with the man.

His hair was a mess, falling about his face and sticking up in the back. Large shadows hung below veiled eyes that showed little sign of awareness. Beneath hollowed cheekbones lay the mottled bruising that patched across his neck like a collar, marking the place where Anakin’s prosthetic hand had dug into his skin.

To top it off, he still wore his soiled Jedi tunic—the very same on which he had worn on Mustafar. Burn marks covered the rough cotton, creating singed patterns like latticework across his chest and arms.

There were no physical wounds from the fight other than the bruising. Needless to say, he had been _very_ lucky.

But that did not mean that he’d walked away unscathed.

Obi-Wan rested his elbows on the edge of the sink, ignoring how the composite surface sent shocks of discomfort up his forearms, created by the slight vibration of the ship as it plowed through hyperspace. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers coming away ashy. A sigh left his lips as he realized that it was time for a shower, something he had been putting off since he’d left Bail’s cruiser.

Since Mustafar, everything had been oddly muted, as though he were living in a dream as though the shock and pain of Anakin’s betrayal had been too much to bear—it had. What made Obi-Wan uneasy was that, the longer he lived apart from reality, the less he wanted to return to living. A part of him, the emotional center which he had learned to control for so long, was shattered, reduced to a terrible numbness. 

Shrugging off his tunic, he powered up the shower and stepped in, letting the warm water caress his tired body. A sigh of contentment left his lips as he felt tense muscles relax.

Without realizing it, his mental shields began to fold in on themselves, falling away almost entirely for the first time in months. Had he not been so fatigued and preoccupied, he might have noticed the absence of those mental barriers... And just how vulnerable it left him to the demons of his own mind. 

Obi-Wan should have been surprised that it took so long for him to feel the repercussions of his own mental state. 

Two minutes. 

It had been a mistake to touch the bruising on his neck, something that he should’ve realized much sooner.

Just the physical contact of his fingers on the bruises shook him to the core.

The anxiety which had been absent for nearly an hour returned in full force, constricting his airways as if someone had tied a knot with his lungs. All around him, the world suddenly seemed too noisy, moving too fast to track—the soft hiss of running water exploding into a great roar. Blood pounded like thunder in his ears even as his vision constricted.

It didn’t even register that his knees had given out, for the next thing he knew, he was on the metallic surface of the shower floor.

_No..._

_No, I can't..._

He did not feel the cool touch of the metal below his body, or the soft patter of water droplets against his skin.

At that moment, he was back on Mustafar, battling his brother on that hellish world of fire.

||

_Any one of the lightsaber strikes could have ended his life._

_He was backing out of the corridor, his saber a blur of light before him as it danced through the air._

_Then, Anakin pinned him against one of the factory’s main control panel. Striking downwards, Obi-Wan had aimed for Anakin’s right leg._

_T_ _he reaction was so fast that he did not have even a second to process what had happened. All he knew was that, a second later, his saber was locked against Anakin’s, travelling swiftly through the air, and then colliding with the control panel to his right, leaving him wide open._

_Right there, he could have died._

_With a hiss of cybernetics and a growl from its owner, Anakin’s right hand shot out and gripped Obi-Wan by the throat._

_Frozen, damn near paralyzed by his opponent’s strength, he felt himself being spun onto his back. His hand shot up, gripping Anakin’s arm with a death grip in an attempt to control his fall. He never reached the ground. Trapped in a spine-breaking backbend, Obi-Wan could only choke and watch as his own lightsaber inched ever closer to his throat._

The crushing grip of the metallic fingers still echoing through his mind, Obi-Wan snapped back to the present. He panted, gasping for air.

 _But I’m not dead,_ he told himself, _I survived._

Numbly, he managed to push himself upright and into a sitting position. Shame washed over him as he pictured himself.

He was weak- a broken man since Mustafar. _Not_ what a Jedi Master should be—a disappointment.

Then his thoughts went to Luke and bile rose in his throat.

_Anakin, you should be here. You should’ve been the one to raise him, even though you broke the Jedi Code. Now he only has me... And I am weak..._

_So weak..._

He sat there in the shower, collecting his thoughts. Inch by bloody inch, his mental shields crept back around his mind. As his mind slowly recovered, Obi-Wan drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. But terrible thoughts kept running though his head, growing steadily worse as time went.

_I shouldn’t be here. If only I had died there with him… Why am I still here?_

_So many Jedi died... Why am I left?_

_Why me?_

A wave of dizziness assaulted his body and he leaned against the wall or support. He fought every inch of darkness that threatened his vision once more, gritting his teeth as his stomach hinted of rebellion. Hands shaking, he covered his face, eyes wide and unseeing. 

Just as his own despair threatened to pull him under once more, a small spark ignited the living Force. Entranced, Obi-Wan followed it, venturing past his own shields farther than he had in days, reaching for the light.

_‘Don’t give in!’_

The words were slurred and distant. To other Jedi, they could’ve been spoken by anyone...But to Obi-Wan... 

“Qui-Gon?” He breathed, “is that you?”

As though in response, the light flared again, brighter this time. Obi-Wan caught flashes of feeling. There was pain, suffering, and yet light… so much light…

 _‘We can make it, I know we can. Come on Master!’_ It was clearer and distinctly female, but still garbled past recognition. 

_A memory..._

He'd heard those words before, a long time ago. He'd been injured and Ahsoka had come to his aid... 

_Ahsoka._

_I abandoned her. She was so young—she didn't deserve—_

_‘Obi-Wan.’_

His heart leaped into his throat as newfound grief wracked his body. “Master,” he choked, “I-I failed him. He was the Chosen one and I-”

_‘Remember the child, Obi-Wan. Trust your feelings.’_

Then the Force went dark once more, drowning everything once more in that awful silence.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes tight and leaned forwards, forearms pressed to the shower wall.

_Don’t leave me,_ he pleaded to the Force, _please…_

There was no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> You can find news about fic updates on my [Tumblr](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/)!  
>   
> All questions, comments, corrections, etc. are Greatly appreciated :)
> 
> Thank you again and may the Force be with you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan must say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy :D

**_[One week after Mustafar]_ **

Tatooine proved to be just as desolate as Obi-Wan remembered it.

Rolling sand dunes stretched from Mos Eisley’s perimeter as far as he could see, painting a background of pale waves behind the vast expanse of never-ending clay-bulb buildings. Mirages distorted the air above the dusty streets like ghosts, converging on the densely-populated marketplace and residential zones. Everything was burning under the twin suns, even in the morning. 

From his vantage point in one of the upper levels of the spaceport, Obi-Wan gazed out at his future home, suddenly feeling empty. 

The Empire would not find them here, he was sure of it. 

But that didn't make him feel any better about his fate. 

Too many times in the last week had he considered running away with the child and raising it as his own. It was terrifying just how tempting the prospect was. Luke was all he had left of Anakin, other than a scorched lightsaber and, well… memories. In the end, his consciousness had won over. After all, he was a Jedi, raised and knighted by people who knew nothing of raising a child outside of the order other than the absolute necessities to sustain life. 

But even calling himself a Jedi was questionable these days. Did he still deserve the title? The rank of Master almost certainly not—he’d sacrificed that the moment he’d locked blades with his former-apprentice. 

Sighing, Obi-Wan ran a finger across Luke’s forehead. The boy gurgled happily in his blankets, staring up at him with wide, blue eyes. 

_I’m so sorry, young one. It’s all my fault…_

_You will never get to meet your mother because of me… and your father._

Pain ricocheted through his head and he closed his eyes. In the days since Mustafar, since the terrible betrayal, he’d struggled to regain control of his emotions, to once more be able to put down shields about his heart and regain composure. 

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that what he was feeling would take a long time to heal. For so long, the Clone Wars had dragged on and forced him to throw up layer-after-layer of mental shielding to survive… and for a while he’d thought that he could do it—that he had control. 

_An illusion,_ he thought bitterly. 

Satine’s death had shattered that strength, sending him into a slow, downward spiral. 

And then Ahsoka’s departure… 

The war had formed a new family for him—and then ripped it apart by the seams. 

Ahsoka. 

Anakin. 

Padme. 

Satine. 

He knew it in his heart that there was little hope that she’d survived. If his calculations were correct, then Ahsoka would’ve been in hyperspace when the Clones betrayed them… 

Emotion hurt like fire, pressing behind his eyes in a way that he hadn’t felt since his Padawan years. 

No, he could not help Luke in his condition, he couldn’t… He’d already failed one Skywalker and that was something he could never allow to happen again. Ever. 

No, Luke would be going to the homestead of Lars. Padme had mentioned something about them once after Anakin had disobeyed his orders and gone to Tatooine. Something about his mother marrying a man named Lars -there wasn’t much else said. At the time, Padme had seemed quite uncomfortable while retelling the death of Anakin’s mother. Obi-Wan had felt her tenseness in the force and gathered, from both her and his padawan’s reactions, that something other than the death of his mother had taken place. He suspected something violent had happened, judging by Padme’s strange behavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask any further questions on the matter. Needless to say, he had missed his chance to ever know. 

Luke clenched his small fists around the blankets, his mouth clamped around one of the straps holding the small sling to Obi-Wan’s chest. The boy stared up at him, eyes wide and innocent as only a child’s could be. 

Obi-Wan’s heart melted and he extended a finger towards the baby. Luke reached up, cooing. 

_Somewhere on this god-forsaken planet, Luke has a family_.

His smile wavered. 

_I’ll have to say goodbye to him soon._

||

After negotiating the purchase of a rather old dewback and some supplies, Obi-Wan reluctantly departed Mos Eisley with a general location of the homestead. He’d been fortunate enough to find a knowledgeable shopkeeper who’d taken pity on him and point the way to the homestead. Said shopkeeper, however, had also _clearly_ assumed that Luke was his own.

He sighed and rubbed his temples wearily, his eyes scanning the horizon. There were ridges to the south, a dark line just barely within the visible range. It reminded him oddly of how the Jedi temple used to stick out of the Coruscant skyline, spearing the sky with its multiple towers. 

A stab of grief wormed itself into his heart. 

It had only been a week since he’d walked through the Jedi temple—one week since he’d left An—

_Don’t go there, Kenobi. Don’t, you’ll regret it._

Luke whined softly in his lap, breaking the silence. 

Obi-Wan looked down and immediately regretted his lack of control.

_Karking hells, Kenobi. Get a grip on yourself._

The child could feel everything. Of course, he could.

Luke squirmed in his sling, eyes screwed shut, slowly beginning to whine. 

Muted horror growing inside him, Obi-Wan rummaged inside one of his travel bags and pulled out a small bottle he’d taken from Bail’s ship. Slowly, he brought it to the child’s lips. 

He could never have imagined himself in such a position. 

If someone had told him, months ago, that he’d be stuck in the desert with Anakin’s child—a presumed-dead fugitive from a galactic Empire—he’d have been impressed with the sheer creativity of the thought. 

And yet here he was. 

_How nice._

The dunes rose and fell, almost hypnotically, until the pattern finally broke, revealing a set of metallic spikes rising out of the desert. Obi-Wan identified them as the ventilators of a moisture farm. 

_Right._

The suns were just barely brushing the uppermost peaks on the horizon when he arrived at the first farm. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he swung himself off the dewback, feeling slightly nauseous. 

He approached the door slowly, tugging his hood lower about his face. 

The objective was just to ask directions as to where the Lars family lived, _without_ conflict… 

That all changed when the door banged open. 

For a moment, Obi-Wan was rooted to the spot, eyes wide. He could see him—right there in front of him. 

Blue eyes narrowed, lip turned upward—the scar over his right eye—

_No. No, that’s not possible._

Stunned, he pulled the child tighter around him, stepping back. 

And then, like an icy bucket of water had been dumped over his head, the world came back into focus. 

Obi-Wan stared down the barrel of a hunting rifle, its owner squinting at him suspiciously. And one good look at the man revealed that he was _very_ much not Anakin Skywalker. 

The man was in his late forties, short with a round physique, and a respectively long beard. 

_Oh…_

Trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions rushing through him, Obi-Wan raised his hands in a peaceful motion. 

“Who are you?” The man demanded, teeth bared, “you’re no Tusken but you ain’t from around here.” 

Obi-Wan let out a breath, his heart rate just beginning to return to normal. He was _not_ in the mood to deal with this man’s attitude. One didn’t need the Force to sense that this would be a difficult conversation. 

Luke blubbered, squirming in his sling. 

The sound of the child visibly startled the man, who lowered the weapon slowly. 

_Tunnel vision,_ Obi-Wan noted. _He didn’t even realize that I had Luke with me. Maybe a recent attack? He’s quite defensive._

It was surprising how much the lines of worry could vanish in a second. It was as if the sight of the baby had flicked some sort of switch inside the man. 

_Maybe I will be able to reason with him after all._

“Ah—hello my friend, I am just looking for the Lars family farm, would you be so kind as to direct me to where they live?” Obi-Wan caught himself before he slipped, quickly masking his Coruscanti accent as best he could. 

The man’s eyes narrowed, but he slowly lowered the rifle.

“Yer’ don’t seem like’one ‘te attack.” He rested the weapon over his shoulder and rubbed his forehead, looking exhausted. 

“God a’mighty… I’m sorry ‘bout that. I can help you find the Lars’s, but you’na need to prove ‘te me that I can trust you b’fore I do that.” He trained his eyes up at Obi-Wan. “My friend, this is a dang’rous country. We’ve had many attacks fr’m sand people in the last month… Ol’ Cliegg Lars was a casualty a few months back. Gone like his ‘ol wife—now she was a sweetheart, that one.”

A great weight settled over Obi-Wan’s heart. _Shmi._

 _He’s talking about Shmi._ Padme had told him a little bit in the wake of Geonosis, but still…

_Focus Kenobi. This is for Luke._

Before the man could continue, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “I’m a friend of the Lars’s—at least I like to consider myself one. I’m sorry to hear about Cliegg-”

“You’re not fr’m around her though, are you?” The man interrupted. Once again, suspicion hung in the air. 

_What gave it away?_ Obi-Wan thought dryly.

“Honey?” A female voice sounded from within the home, making the man spin. 

The owner of the voice appeared shortly after: a slight woman with graying shoulder-length hair. She looked about the same age as the man, but unlike her husband, sent warm waves through the Force. 

It was oddly comforting to be in her presence, a feeling that Obi-Wan hadn’t experienced since… 

Smiling, the woman rested an elbow on her husband’s shoulder. There, she tipped her head on its side and studied Obi-Wan quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she took in the small child strapped to his chest. 

“A father, are we?” 

Obi-Wan felt himself redden slightly, and shook his head, “ehrm—well, it’s complicated.”

An evil gleam filled the old woman’s eyes and she gave him a sly smile. “Isn’t it always, sweetie?” She grinned at Obi-Wan before turning to the older man. “Anyway dear, did you tell this nice fellow where the Lars’s farm is, eh? By bantha it’ll be another hour.” 

The man grunted and jerked his head to Obi-Wan’s left, “ ’s that way. Be careful and watch th’ shadows. Y’never know when ‘em Raiders‘ll find you. Follow the vaporators, there be several farms between you and th’ Lars’s. Their homestead’s buri’d mostly, like a dugout.” 

Though it wasn’t quite what he’d been hoping for in terms of directions, Obi-Wan still gave the couple a quick bow before making his way back to his ride. 

A part of him had wanted to ask for fresh water, his canteen had warmed quite considerably since he’d left Mos Eisley, but he refrained. He didn’t need the Force to know that he wasn’t welcome in that home—at least not by the man. 

||

As described, the vaporators formed a line down the different farm properties, offering an organization system to the incoherent mass of desert. 

Obi-Wan was just thankful that there was something to look at other than sand. On one hand, he could meditate, but something held him back, an indescribable feeling that felt _wrong_. 

_You’re distracted,_ he told himself, and passed off the feeling. 

||

The suns were just beginning to set when he pulled up to the Lars’s homestead. 

Just as the other man had described, the front half of the house was sticking out of the ground in the traditional domed fashion, while the other section was sunken into the ground and barred off with a layer of brickwork. Numerous vaporators circled the complex like pins in a pincushion. 

_This is it,_ he realized. 

_It’ll be over…_  
  


The boy was wide awake and blowing spit-bubbles, gurgling away as he gazed at the world with piercing blue eyes. Obi-Wan rocked him gently, smiling down at Luke with barely-concealed sadness. 

_I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry._

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan dismounted, cradling Luke to his chest with a free hand. 

“You’re getting a new home,” he whispered. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Suddenly everything was coming back to him… why he was here, why Luke was here… 

He landed a light kiss on the child’s forehead. The act felt strange, almost out of character for him, but it also felt right. 

Taking another breath, he attempted to steel his mind. 

_This is what’s right for the boy. He needs parents, people who know what to do…_

By this time, Owen Lars had noticed his arrival, peering out the front door with a suspicious look on his face. Beru was just behind him, her short brown hair waving in the wind. 

Sighing, Obi-Wan let his hood drop. 

Instantly, there was a reaction from Owen and his distrust filled the Force.

And, for the second time that day, Obi-Wan found a hunting rifle aimed at his head. 

Tall and strong, his brown eyes narrowed into dark slivers, the man let out a sharp command as Obi-Wan approached. It was quite clear that he knew _exactly_ who the Jedi Master was.

_Great, just your luck, Kenobi. You’re getting a weapon aimed at your face two times in the same day._

“Don’t take another step, _Jedi_. You bring nothing but trouble here.” 

Obi-Wan raised a hand, “I am not here for a fight, my name is-”

“-Kenobi, trust me, I know, your face was all over the Holonet for years, so let’s just say that your reputation precedes you. That and your apprentice.”

Obi-Wan’s heart sank. _Anakin_. 

The Force whispered ominously. 

Beru wormed her way from behind her husband and stood there, eyeing the bundle on Obi-Wan’s chest before looking up into his eyes. Where there was anger in Lars’s gaze, there was only a pure curiosity in hers. 

“We did not realize that he destroyed an entire village until the Sand People came for revenge,” she said after a short pause, “we lost Cliegg in one of the following attacks—most of the local homesteads lost people too…” Her voice trailed off. 

_Oh, Anakin…_

Owen grunted and lowered his weapon, “that apprentice of yours, tell him that he owes us big time. He owes this entire _region_ big time. You’re lucky that we didn’t inform the others of his identity. They just think that it was a rogue sorcerer of some kind—to be honest, they don’t _care_ who started anymore. All they care about are the deaths that followed him.”

_Control it, Kenobi. Now is not the time to grieve —or to think about what Anakin did—_

Despite his accusatory words, Owen was beginning to relax, much to Obi-Wan’s relief. It would be much easier to reason with him when he was calm… 

Slowly the weapon came down. “I guess I should ask the question that should have been asked several minutes ago. Why are you here?”

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan lifted Luke from his sling and saw the man’s eyes widen as he did so. He presented Luke to Beru slowly, mentally suppressing the urge to take the child and run. 

It was for Luke’s own good. 

_And I cannot think selfishly. It’s not the Jedi way._

Beru was speechless, her lips parted slightly in awe. 

“He’s beautiful,” she breathed, pushing a strand of hair out of Luke’s face, “is he yours?” She looked back up at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan could only shake his head. 

_Please take him from me, please…_ he silently begged the couple. 

By this time, Owen had come to stand with his wife. His face broke into a smile as he took in the child, then, as he gently rocked the child in his arms, he became solemn. 

“He’s Skywalker’s, isn’t he?” The man looked at Obi-Wan searchingly, as if hoping to find answers. 

Obi-Wan bowed his head.

“He is.” 

He didn’t need to explain. They would know who the mother was, he could already see the recognition in Owen’s eyes… and the implication of what had happened to the child’s parents… 

||

In the time following his departure from the homestead, there was no way to possibly describe the numbness which radiated from the inside of Obi-Wan’s mind. 

It was as though his will had left along with Luke, leaving him as an empty shell. The boy had grounded him, his last true connection to the real world. 

Owen had been grateful and Beru rendered speechless. Both were overjoyed at the prospect of adopting a child—as they were unable to have children of their own. 

Obi-Wan, his control slipping, had given his condolences regarding Cliegg before bidding the family farewell and departing. 

It all felt too sudden, too abrupt to be a proper goodbye.

But there was no going back. Not for a long time. 

Obi-Wan finally allowed himself to look back, hands clasping the reigns in a deathgrip. 

The suns had set behind the horizon, bathing the dunes with a reddish glow. Only the faint outline of the homestead remained. Somewhere, within that home, was a family. 

Once, he’d also had a family. 

But no longer. 

  
A chill wind blew across the dunes, making him pull his cloak tighter about his body.

Obi-Wan bowed his head. 

Luke was gone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be ready for some Ahsoka POV next chapter! Will have news on updates [here](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/).  
>   
> 


	3. Chapter 3 - [Part 2] - The Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Order 66, Ahsoka and Rex shelter in the ruins of the Venator-class ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait on this one!  
> Hope you all enjoy!  
> 

_Ahsoka bowed her head, panting. Fatigue weighing down every bone in her body. Her jaw hurt terrible, a rhythmic throb marking the spot where Maul had struck her. Her chest hurt, the adrenaline of the fight slowly wearing away._

Just face it, you've missed this _, a voice whispered in her mind,_ you missed the action—the thrill of the fight _._

_Shifting her weight slightly on the durasteel beam, Ahsoka directed her gaze skyward once more. The place where Maul had shattered the outer dome over the city._

_A breeze caressed her skin. It was not cold, but its touch chilled her down to the bone. Something about all of this was… Wrong. So wrong._

_“Let me go!”_

_“Let me die!”_

_“You’re all going to burn.”_

_Maul’s raw cry echoed in her mind, haunting her. Ever since she’d chosen to involve herself with the rogue Sith, everyone had been warning her of how deceptive and cunning he was… But the only thing she had sensed and heard from him was genuine._

_And that was what scared her down to the bones, causing her to question every choice presented before her._

_Could he be right?_

_Could Maul see something, with eyes corrupted and yet unclouded, that she and the Jedi hadn’t?_

_Were they truly out of time?_

_Ahsoka watched the Clones encase Maul in layers of cables and restraints. The tattooed Zabrak was limp and treated roughly. Had it been anyone else, she might have ordered the Clones to treat their prisoner a bit more gently. But this was personal, not for her, but the lineage which she had come to care for during her time as a Jedi._

_And though Ahsoka was angry for their betrayal —with Anakin and Obi-Wan and all those who had turned their back on her—she owed them this much. _

_No matter what, anything to do with Maul was personal. He’d hurt her family._

_And that was enough._

_"Commander!" That would be Rex calling to her._

_Yes, she should be getting to the gunship about now…_

_Ahsoka directed her gaze skyward once again. Dread filled the air, a sickening sense of apprehension, as though an invisible clock were counting down to something that she could not see._

_…_

_…_

  
  


The muted flickering of the fire was visible from beneath her eyelids, a dancing haze of orange against the darkness. 

Slowly, Ahsoka opened her eyes, breathing in deeply. 

The air stung against her skin and cut into her nose and throat. She coughed softly, rolling onto her stomach. Beneath her fingers, the thin military-grade blanket did little to protect her from the frigid deckplates. 

Around her, the vast cavern was dark, its rectangular formation angled precariously. The shadows continued to dance along the wall, giving off an acute feeling of desolation. 

The silence pressed in on her eardrums, painful in its emptiness and deafening in its oppression. Her only saving grace was the subtle crackle of the nearby flames. 

Pulling the thin blankets around her shoulders, Ahsoka moved to the closest wall, unrolling the cloak she’d been using as a pillow as she went. Draping it over her knees, she huddled there in silence. 

The starboard side of the colossal Venator-class ship had been torn open on impact, the inner corridors exposed like a terrible wound. 

Ahsoka’s eyes fell on Rex’s silhouette, outlined against the darkness outside. A stab of sadness ran through her. 

_He lost everything._

Ahsoka’s hands ached, blisters raw and painful on her skin. In the last two days, her fingers had begun to curl in like claws, her joints slowly conforming to the shovel’s metallic handle. 

Over the course of the war, she’d watched many Clones die, countless lives lost in the air, land, and sea. But this was different. She could see their faces in her mind, and feel echoes of their presence in the Force. 

Despite her time spent away from the Jedi, she could still call many of them by name… And for the newcomers, the men who had only just found their place in the 501st… Had they even seen the battlefield before her command? 

Closing her eyes, Ahsoka rested her montrals on her forearms. 

It was all still… too much. 

_Too much._

Burying the fallen, honoring them… It was what held her together. Such action gave her a purpose—a mission. 

Nearby, Rex shifted, she could hear him breathing—deeply as if to control his emotions. 

_It’s what’s holding both of us together._

Exhaling, Ahsoka stilled herself. Slowly, she began to peel back the layers surrounding her mind, the barriers she’d cast there the moment she’d heard the Force’s scream… 

_I must… find balance._

An image of Master Kenobi came to her and she felt her fists clench. Her heart began to beat faster as she resisted the panic welling up in the pit of her stomach. 

_He has to be alright… He and Anakin are fine._

Doubt spiraled about her thoughts, pulling her hopes right back down, Maul’s words echoing eerily in the back of her head. 

For some time, she wandered in her memories, retreating back her early days of the war… Back when she had been a part of a family… 

No matter how hard she tried, meditation remained at arm’s length. Like a skipping stone, she reached the Force and rebounded, anguish and despair creating an impenetrable wall between herself and any hope of balance. 

_It’s too much…_

  
  


_Too much…_

At some point near daybreak, Ahsoka felt a hand drop onto her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. 

Blearily, she looked up into Rex’s face. 

Her eyelids felt puffy, as though her eyeballs were pushing out of their sockets. Her head felt like it was filled with cotton balls, her brain processing everything slowly… A throbbing pain ran its way from the back of her skull and down her spine—the result of falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position—

“Commander?” 

_He’s exhausted._

_We both are._

Dark circles surrounded Rex’s eyes, adding to the shadows beneath his cheekbones. Over the past few days, he had progressively taken on a skeletal quality. Ahsoka wondered what she, herself looked like, if she was matching him in terms of appearance… She hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror in a long time… 

All Ahsoka knew was that her friend looked positively ghastly in the firelight. 

She managed a half-smile, staring up into his eyes. 

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore, Rex.” 

Ahsoka watched his expression fold into a soft smile. He offered a hand and she took it, allowing herself to be pulled into a standing position. 

Wordlessly, they traded spots, already accustomed to the drill. They had passed the point of conversation, mechanically reacting to the situations as they presented themselves.

But that was going to change. And soon. 

They had agreed on three days. 

Three days to bury the men that they could find before departing. 

Ahsoka watched the flames, the sparks as they drifted upwards, silhouetted by the thin trail of smoke. 

A long time ago, she’d been eager for battle—for the action. And now… Now she didn’t know what to think. A part of her wished that she could go back in time and her overexcited Padawan self, that it was not action that she should be excited for…

That it was the _people_ which would make her experiences worth it. Her Masters and her friends. 

Ahsoka stole a look back at Rex, noting that he was already fast asleep. Relief washed over her. 

_Good._

Until the very early hours of the previous day, the Captain had been unable to sleep. 

And even then, it had been a precious few hours of him tossing about, muttering, and even crying out at times. 

Now, he seemed peaceful, but Ahsoka knew it wouldn’t last. 

Eventually, the sun rose over the distant mountains, sending a soft breeze across the planet’s surface. Ahsoka watched as the sand rippled, streams rippling upwards, hypnotically reflecting in the morning light. 

It was beautiful. 

Somewhere off to the side, nestled in the side of the fallen ship, was the burial site. It was far less than what her brothers deserved… 

An odd thought crossed her mind. 

Would they be able to rest here?

Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes tight. 

_No, I can’t start thinking about things like that._

Suddenly the corridor began to feel a bit too tight. 

Ahsoka climbed to her feet, feeling her lightsabers knock against her hips. Almost surprised by their presence, she looked down at them numbly. 

_I know what I have to do… But I don’t want to do it…_

Feeling empty, Ahsoka walked the entrance several times, tracing a figure-eight in the sand. 

The emptiness persisted throughout the rest of the morning. 

It was there when Rex finally gave up on sleep, when they wordlessly returned to burying the men of the 501st, and even when they regrouped for a meager lunch back in the Venator’s corridor. 

Halfway through her ration bar, Ahsoka sighed, slowly letting her hand fall into her lap. 

For the first time since before dawn, she spoke, voice raw from lack of use. 

“Are we still good on the plan?” She asked. 

Rex leaned back into the side of the ship, his expression hooded. More than ever, Ahsoka could see the strain in his expression. The Clone Captain looked at her, his eyes dark. 

He was wearing only the dark bodysuit now, having neatly piled his armor near where they kept the blankets. Armor or not, he kept his weapons on him. As he spoke, he tapped his fingers across the darkened metal. 

“I still don’t like it,” his face twisted into a grimace, “but if you feel it’s necessary and worth the risk…”

Ahsoka nodded, eyes moving back toward the entrance of the corridor. 

“I do.” 

Rex laughed lightly, but the only thing in his eyes was worry. “Look, I’ll go with your plan, but we don’t know if Rodia is safe. I _doubt_ that it is.”

Ahsoka looked at him and then down at the meal bar in her hand. “It won’t be. There will definitely be a Republic presence there. But I think it’ll be a place where we’ll have options.”

Rex hummed in agreement. “It _is_ Outer Rim, after all. One advantage is that the ship—” He jerked his head towards the Y-wing, “might actually go relatively unnoticed in a place like that. Especially if we can get rid of it outside city limits.” 

Nodding, Ahsoka felt her heart sink. She hoped he was right…Otherwise this meeting could very well be the death of both of them. 

She _had_ to try though. 

On Rodia, the Jedi had always kept a network of allies to aid the locals fight the pirates which plagued the system. Her gut feeling was that they could find help… She had an old friend there from her youngling days who might just be able to answer some of their questions. 

Across the empty fire pit, Rex finished off his ration bar and got to his feet. For the first time, Ahsoka got a sense of life from him, his presence in the Force sparking slightly. 

The rest of the afternoon seemed to fly by. Ahsoka and Rex both took turns priming the ship in preparation for their departure. It had been repaired for the most part before Rex had initially taken it airborne, but needed a few tweaks.

When both of them eventually migrated back to the ship, they teamed up on the last of the repairs. 

Rex had put down his meager possessions and helmet next to the copilot’s seat. Saying nothing, the Clone Captain had retreated back towards the gravesite. Ahsoka watched through the Y-Wing’s viewport as he came to a halt, head bowed. 

To give him privacy, she busied herself with the ship once more, double and triple checking the stats. 

At some point, she felt Rex return, acknowledging him with a nod before jumping down from the ship. She pulled her cloak tight around her, hugging herself. 

_This is it._

Eyes lowered, Ahsoka approached the burial site. 

Each Clone, each brother, rested in a line, just like the standard block formation. 

Ahsoka remembered when they’d stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder, welcoming her back. In life, their discipline was impeccable, their bodies still and unmoving in attention. But even then, there had been life, the moving of their armor as they breathed, the slight tremor in their shoulders as they held themselves still. 

Now, she saw the same lines, the same helmets… On many, the paint had been scraped or burned away in places. It was as though they were still at attention. 

But this time, there was no life, no warm presence to help soothe the terrible grief which welled up inside Ahsoka’s heart. 

She took in the blue-lined helmet standing at the front, the Republic’s symbol traced across its crown. 

_I’m sorry, Jesse._

Breathing slowly, she unclasped her lightsaber from her belt, feeling its weight in her palm. A fire burned in her stomach, guilt and pain eating away at her insides. 

She could have taken those moments to talk to him—she _should_ have. She’d felt the clock ticking down even before her return, the darkness swelling within the Force and blotting out the light… 

Closing her eyes, she felt the tear trace its way down her cheek. 

Not only had she failed her Master, but she’d turned on Obi-Wan. In her encounter with Maul, she’d learned… So much. What a fool she’d been to think that he didn’t care, that he was just another reflection of Mace and the other Council members. 

The lightsaber rolled off of her fingers, as her mind forced back the memories. 

_There won’t be a body…_

_So there must be proof that Ahsoka Tano died here._

Her Master’s gift, created for her—and _only_ her—tumbled from her fingers. It hit the dirt with a soft _thud_. 

Breathing slowly, Ahsoka scrubbed her face, pushing against the grief which threatened to explode from within her mind. It was all too much… _too much…_

A hand grazed her shoto which was still clipped to her belt. 

For a moment, she was tempted to leave it as well, to sever her bond with what caused her so much agony—

The hand which had pulled her second blade from her belt, steadied.

Letting out a long breath, Ahsoka pressed the weapon against her chest. 

_I can’t do it. I can’t leave both of them…_

The hilt was cold against her fingers.

“Your weapon is your life,” she whispered. Her Master had told her that—and Obi-Wan before him. 

Slowly, Ahsoka clipped the second blade back at her hip. 

_This weapon_ is _my life_. 

After a time, she turned back towards the ship. She could see Rex, patiently waiting for her. 

It was time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to have the next update out _very_ soon. My target time is either this Thursday or Friday (the 11th or 12th). After that the plan is to return to a weekly update schedule!
> 
> Link to my tumblr: [Here](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you so much for reading and may the Force be with you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After departing the moon, Ahsoka and Rex make their way to Rodia. 
> 
> There, Ahsoka begins to realize what happened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to this [sad Naruto Shippuden ost comp.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6sRwDzd2icQ) while writing this… *cries in corner* Obito’s [unreleased] death theme wrecked me so hard. 
> 
> Also this song: [“Bury My Heart”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmPEohe8NHM&list=PLIJmIwplEz8uJdwvfjZHKzsDbC3Q2jr7K&index=14) is just… ow. It also _really_ helped me write. 
> 
> Anyways, I'll stop blabbing about music! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this update!

Around the fighter, the clouds seemed to caress the durasteel hull, dancing around the twin engines in small tufts before falling away. 

They were in the upper atmosphere, the winds knocking into the ship and fighting the controls. These were the same winds that had bit and torn into the Venator when it had gone down, helping account for the sheer amount of damage the doomed ship sustained. 

As they passed into space, the different gaseous layers of the planet seemed to glow. They were transparent at the cloudlayer, but outlined in a vibrant, indigo-blue at the point where the curve of the planet refracted the sun’s rays. 

Ahsoka felt a bit of her heart—the part of her which still held hope—break away. 

Grief was strange… Strange in the way that it could create such terrible, soul-shattering pain as well as the complete opposite: complete and utter numbness. 

Maybe she really had died on that ship, her invisible body buried at the head of the neat formation alongside Anakin’s final gift. 

Ahsoka’s hands clenched the controls so hard that her knuckles turned pale. She didn’t want to leave this place, it felt so _wrong._

 _Or am I just afraid of what I’ll find out there?_ She thought. 

For days, she’d pushed away the doubts, the whispers in her mind that fed her worst fears. It wasn’t the best thing to do and she knew it, but she’d gone into auto-pilot. Her brain had wrapped an iron grip around the ‘here and now,’ rather than allowing her to fully acknowledge the broader implications of what happened… 

But now? 

Ahsoka exhaled softly. Behind her, she could feel Rex’s concern in the Force.

Of course he would be. They’d worked together long enough to know when the other was in pain… 

Beside her, the navicomputer beeped, drawing Ahsoka back into the moment. Slowly, she reached for the dash, but hesitated, a hand hovering over the controls which would take them to hyperspace.

Rex’s presence flared, grief echoing in the Force.

Slowly, Ahsoka glanced back at her friend.

The Clone Captain had turned almost completely around in the narrow confines of the fighter, hands and knees braced against the durasteel panels in order to look back at the Venator.

Ahsoka felt slightly sick, she took in the large silhouette of the planet behind her. She couldn’t see the crash site. At this point, she could barely see the surface.

The hand she had on the steering began to shake.

_Anakin was walking in beside her, his presence light with pride and excitement._

_In front of them, the doors hissed open—_

_They were standing in two rows, shoulder-to-shoulder—_

_Rex was calling attention, a freshly-painted helmet held in the crook of his arm—_

Ahsoka withdrew her hand from the controls as if she’d been burned. Leaning back, her head thudded softly against the padded chair. 

_I can’t…_

For a moment, she fought to control her breathing, keenly aware that they were just floating in space, held in limbo by her lack of action. 

_Breathe._

Her heart was pounding, relentlessly drumming against her ribcage. 

_Breathe, Ahsoka._

Slowly, she reached back for the controls. 

With practiced movements, Ahsoka guided the ship about. The desert moon began to creep up on their port side, coming back into view. 

Rex’s surprise echoed in the Force, mixed with a sense of relief. He looked at her, gratitude painted on his face. She nodded, giving him a sad smile. 

There it was, a small speck on the surface. 

The ship. 

The gravesite. 

Bowing her head, Ahsoka sent a final farewell into the Force. 

* * *

It was night on Rodia when they arrived, the sun reduced to a small sliver, peering from around the circular frame of the jungle planet. From space, the domed cities glowed—small circles of light against the dark background.

With one hand, Ahsoka pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, doing her best to mentally brace herself for what would happen next. 

For the first time since the crash, she allowed herself to tune into the Force, to get even a small sense of what had happened—

It was like running into a durasteel wall. 

Or being simultaneously frozen and burned alive. 

The Force was crying, a chorus of distress and grief, one that could only be felt—not heard. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ahsoka slammed down her mental shields, realizing the danger of opening herself up too far. 

As the cries of death began to fade, she leaned forward, panting from the effort of not screaming out loud. 

“Commander? Ahsoka?” Rex’s voice came over the fighter’s internal comms, worried. 

Ahsoka, felt her heart ache. 

“I’m… Alright,” she gasped. 

It was a lie. 

The sadness which she felt wasn’t just because of what she’d sensed. It was a massive combination of, well, _everything._ The questions, the unknowns, the loss… 

Rex clearly didn’t believe her, she could tell that much even without looking, but he didn’t argue. She was grateful. 

To distract herself, Ahsoka tried focusing on the green planet as it drew nearer, but even that had its own baggage. 

For her whole life, seeing new planets had been such a thrilling adventure, and that excitement hadn’t changed even in her Padawan days. Ahsoka had been so self-conscious about it until she realized that both Anakin and Obi-Wan had their own tradition of congregating near a viewport before they came out of hyperspace. 

Within seconds, she’d fallen back into the rut—the same cycle of pain which she’d somehow been able to avoid back on the moon… 

Never had she realized that your heart could actually hurt—like an invisible string was being pulled— _until now_. 

* * *

They ditched the ship outside Equator City. Ahsoka purposely landed it in a small pond, allowing the small fighter to float long enough for them to vacate. And then she sank it beneath the dark waves. 

She didn’t know how severe their situation was yet, or how many had suffered from the terrible betrayal of the Clones, but if what she’d felt in the Force was any indication… 

Better safe than sorry. 

As for Rex’s armor, they’d come up with a solution. He couldn’t exactly stroll around the city, openly wearing the armor of a Republic Captain. It would be too conspicuous. Their solution had been a desperate one and utilized a few of the spare cloaks that they’d managed to gather back on the moon. 

Hood pulled low over his face, cloak covering his armor, Rex still looked a bit suspicious. Then again, so did Ahsoka. They were both fugitives, and the less their faces could be seen, the better. 

Soaking wet and shivering in the cold breeze, the pair of them had hastened toward the city. 

All the cities on Rodia were domed, much like Mandalore’s. But while the latter suffered from a war-torn desolate landscape, Rodia’s problem was the Jungle and all the dangers it brought. 

The result was beautiful, especially in the darkness of twilight. 

The upper levels were visible, buildings illuminated from the in a warm, yellowish light. Somehow, it reminded Ahsoka a little bit of Coruscant, and she felt a pang of longing run through her. 

If her gut feeling was true… She’d never see her home ever again. 

As Ahsoka took in the large, clear dome which towered above them, it finally began to sink in. 

She was alone now. But not like she had been after leaving the Order. 

This was different. _Very_ different. 

More than ever, she was thankful for Rex’s presence. To have _someone_ with her, especially after what had happened, meant more than words could describe.

When her bond with Anakin had gone dark, when she’d heard the screams… That’s when her isolation had begun—even before her friends had turned their weapons upon her. 

… 

Everything that happened next seemed detached from reality, as though Ahsoka were watching a holovid of herself and Rex.

At the gates, one of the side entrances into the city, the guards stared at them with suspicion before she convinced them otherwise with the Force. 

The darkened tops of buildings, the warm glow of the Rhodian-style lanterns, the bustling streets—it all blurred together in her mind. Rex didn’t know where they were going and followed her carefully, but the only thing that guided her now was the Force. 

She knew Equator City from a mission years ago, but not from the direction that they’d come in. 

The back of her mind, a part of her that seemed to connect dream with reality, was making the logical argument to make for a place with mass transit… Somewhere that could get them near the East entrance… 

From there, she could lead them to their destination… 

  
  


The world only seemed to snap back into focus when they were on the tram, speeding northeast through a network of tunnels. 

Around them the train car was nearly empty, save for two Rodian passengers near the front. 

Rex put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Commander?” 

Ahsoka looked up at him slowly. 

“Are you alright?” His voice was soft. 

Closing her eyes, she blinked up at him. “Rex, I don’t know. This all feels so strange.”

Rex shifted, adjusting the helmet he carried beneath the cloak. “I feel the same way. This feels so surreal to me. I keep thinking that we’re on-mission, that this is just all some sort of bad dream that I can wake up from…” His voice trailed off. 

Ahsoka’s gaze fixed on the exit. “I wish it was a dream,” she whispered. 

But if it were, there wouldn’t be an abyss in the Force, an emptiness once occupied by all that was light. 

A few minutes later, the tram came to a halt. The neon banner above the exit read: _Eastern District_ in bold lettering. 

Rex grimaced. 

As they stepped off, Ahsoka noted the nearly-deserted station. 

The Clone Captain leaned closer, “I’m surprised.” He whispered, “the industrial center of this City is just South of us—that’s where the Republic was stationed. If I remember correctly, this place should at least have some kind of Republic pres—” 

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. Ahsoka had only just seen it as well. 

Near one of the station’s exits, an old Republic-issue holoprojecter flickered. 

One of its panels was cracked and sparking—still functioning—but was highly pixelated from damage. Across the bottom panel, stretching across a great expanse of the brick wall behind it, were the spray painted words _‘death to the Empire—long live the Jedi.”_

But it wasn’t that which had grabbed Ahsoka’s attention—or the nasty red stain spreading across the stone flooring nearby. 

It was what was on the screen, the _Republic-made_ screen. Only—it didn’t seem to be playing anything that she’d seen before. 

_The… Empire?_

The icon which stood out in the upper, right hand side certainly _looked_ similar to the Republic’s, but it was slightly different. The colors of the gear-shaped symbol were inverted and the linework offset. 

“Wanted for treason against the Empire.” Rex’s voice was hollow as he read the notice at the top. “If sighted, please report to Imperial authorities.” 

Two faces came on at once, lighting up the screen for a few seconds before passing on to the next set. 

Ahsoka watched, numb, as she saw Master Ti and Luminara’s faces fade from view. 

Suddenly a weight dropped into her stomach—a bone-deep apprehension. 

If they were alive, if her Masters were alive, they would be _here_ . The Jedi listed on the board were _wanted_ , not dead. 

Her hands clenched into fists. Without thinking, she drew closer to the screen, eyes glued to the light. 

Quinlain Voss’s face appeared, right next to Master Billaba. Both had the same blank look, the mugshot capturing little to none of the spirit that they had in life. 

Ahsoka blinked when her own face appeared. It was an older picture, and her montrals were much smaller. For a reason that she couldn’t fathom, laughter threatened to bubble up in her throat. It was the picture the Republic had used when she’d been accused of bombing the Temple. 

It might have been a curse to be listed with what seemed like some of the most wanted people in the galaxy, but it was still _proof_ of her existence. 

The next set of pictures arrived and Ahsoka made a sound in the back of her throat. 

Behind her, Rex made a soft choking noise, “how…?” 

Barriss Offee’s face was proudly featured right next to Master Yoda. Ahsoka’s eyes bored into the tratorous apprentice’s lifeless face-capture, refusing to believe what she was seeing. 

_How dare she—how dare they put her face next to Master Yoda of all people—_

A few more panels went by in a blur. 

Ahsoka began to feel desperate, her anger at Barriss bleeding into growing panic. They were no longer showing Council Members. She saw some others that she’d met, all Padawans and younglings. 

_C’mon, Skyguy._

Ahsoka’s eyes searched the holoimages. She wanted to fall to her knees and plead to the Force—she _needed_ the next faces to be the ones of her family. 

_Anakin_. 

_Obi-Wan._

_Master Plo._

Watching and waiting was agony, a pain greater than almost anything she’d felt before. 

And then the images of Shaak Ti and Luminara flickered into view. 

“Ahsoka,” Rex laid a hand on her shoulder. 

Staring at the screen, Ahsoka let her hands uncurl. 

_No._

_This can’t be right. I have to see—I have to know—_

_I must have missed it, I must be mistaken._

She moved closer to the screen. Now, she was right in front of it, her shadow falling onto the brick wall. 

Rex caught her arm through the cloak. “Ahsoka.” His voice was hard. “We can’t stay here.” 

The faces were still coming. Master Billaba had just faded out of view… 

“Commander. We need to leave, someone will find us here if we stay for much longer.” 

_I… I…_

Grabbing her more roughly, Rex spun her around. Dazed, she looked up at him. 

“I never got to tell him, Rex—”

“Ahsoka,” his voice softened, “we’ll have a time… A time to grieve. But we can’t now.”

She felt like a child, as though she’d been thrown back in time—to her first mission with Anakin on Christophsis… 

A weight was growing inside her mind, a crushing darkness eating away at everything. 

_Rex is right,_ she thought distantly, _we… Need to go._

But her body didn’t want to move. 

… 

Putting one foot in front of the other seemed so alien to her, so unfamiliar, as if her body was gliding. She passed through the exit and climbed some steps onto a busy street. 

Was it a place she’d seen before? 

She didn’t know. It didn’t matter anymore. The Force was still guiding her, but she distantly wondered if it was also controlling her body, _making_ it move—because she certainly wasn’t. Was she?

It was all so confusing. 

At some point, Ahsoka realized that she was grasping Rex’s hand. Perhaps it was her seeking confirmation that she hadn’t floated away, that she still was alive…

Her other hand slipped beneath her cloak and clutched her shoto. The cold metal sent a jolt through her, the crystal inside calling out to her mind. 

_I’m still alive._

_I’m still here._

Blinking back tears, Ahsoka continued forward. 

_I should’ve been there_ , she thought, biting into her lip. 

_Why wasn’t I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> This the last chapter before the time skip which will take us to... well what will end up happening ;)
> 
> You can find news about fic updates on my [Tumblr](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/)!  
>   
> Thank you again and may the Force be with you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even months after Order 66, Obi-Wan struggles with his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This—hands-down—has been the most difficult chapter so far. To just get from point A to B took a lot of trial and error. Gave myself a good round of writer's block haha.  
> There is content here from Legends, specifically [Mos Taike](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mos_Taike/Legends).
> 
> I plan to have much more content for next week's update :))  
> Hope you enjoy!

The months stretched by like centuries, each day playing out in the same, hypnotic cycle.

Wake up.

Attempt to meditate.

And just try to live… _life_. 

But what Obi-Wan was living didn’t feel like “life,” not _his_ at any rate. He was a warrior, conditioned for combat, and relentless, difficult missions—a far cry the stagnant schedule he was managing now. It wasn’t so much the matter of _why_ he was tied to this new life of a hermit, but rather the act and acceptance of its permanence. 

The monotony was simply disgusting to him, eating his spirit down to the core. 

The first week had been the worst, a darkened blur of memories and loss. For days, he’d traveled the area surrounding Lars's home, searching for some kind of place to set up residence—or even temporary camp. 

At first, he’d stayed within a reasonable distance of the homestead. Only after hours of conflict, had he finally been able to accept that there was no possible way for him to comfortably, and covertly, remain close to Luke. 

In the end, he settled for an abandoned hut on the Western end of the Dune Sea. It was small, somewhat rundown, and farther away than he’d hoped for, but it was _something_. 

Without paying too much attention to what he was doing, Obi-Wan had thrown himself into the task of renovating the place. Unfortunately, that kind of work was hardly enough to keep his mind at bay… to keep the darkness from creeping back into his thoughts. 

Meditation was a very prominent struggle, a challenge which nearly proved impossible to overcome. Memories had begun to spring up into his mind—years, even _decades_ old. And they were persistent, multiplying even as he struggled to overcome their fallout. 

Many times, he had to devote a large amount of effort and concentration into reminding himself that he even _had_ good memories… but even those were terribly bittersweet. 

It felt like he was drowning. 

Every minute. 

Of every day. 

And there didn’t seem to be a kriffing thing he could do about it. 

Worst of all, however, were the dreams: horrible compilations of suffering and death, twisted and yet so painfully realistic. It was like he was a passenger in his own mind, strapped down to a table and forced to relive the moments of his greatest failures. 

Upon awakening, he would see the flaws—the gaps where his own dream had twisted reality. But it didn’t matter what he thought in his waking hours. What caused him pain was the dream itself—the thing that he _couldn’t_ control. 

That and the blood he spat out of his mouth in the morning, the result of a throat torn by screams. 

Months before, every day had brought new issues to the table. The Jedi Order had been forced to think and speculate what challenges each new day would bring. 

And though each morning had been filled with a sense of anticipation and stress, it had been a distraction. 

… Now the most ‘exciting’ and ‘unique’ activity was choosing what his next meal would be, or feeding the dewback. 

There was no war, no tactics or battle to plan—nothing but the desert sand surrounding him. 

No distractions. 

No outlet to put his focus into. 

_Nothing._

Obi-Wan wondered what Qui-Gon would say if his Master could see him now. 

Because he truly was lost. 

A rat in the desert, slowly rotting away in his own darkness. 

  
  


* * *

In the span of two months, Obi-Wan visited Mos Taike four times, bringing a good haul of supplies with each visit. Though the old, rundown city would not have been his first choice, it was the closest, cutting several hours of travel time in comparison with Mos Eisley. 

The first trip was smooth going and presented him with a newly-refurbished vaporator for his own use, and the other expeditions proved just as productive. 

Having the water source definitely made life a whole lot easier and Obi-Wan found, much to his surprise, that things were getting… better? 

Since the vaporator brought him water, he could focus on other issues. 

Ever-so-slowly, he’d begun to find the Force’s touch less painful, the sharpness of each memory fading with each passing day. 

One thing that did _not_ change, however, was his reluctance to touch a lightsaber. 

His own blade had begun to collect dust, hanging near the door, while Anakin’s…Well, Anakin’s blade had found a new home in a small chest beneath his bed. 

And if he felt any resignation towards using his own, it was _nothing_ compared to how he felt even looking at his former-apprentice’s. 

The new sense of stability, however, was short-lived, ending with Obi-Wan’s fourth excursion to the city.

From there, things took a rather… dark turn. 

  
  


* * *

He’d left in the morning, making his departure as soon as the suns began to peer above the horizon. By the time he reached Mos Eisley, it had just passed noon. 

Obi-Wan had truly made an effort to return to his old self that day. There was no better example of this than when he went to the local repair shop to get some parts for the vaporator. 

There’d been a kid there, no older than twelve, and Obi-Wan smiled at the boy, surprising even himself. But even if it seemed like a ‘smile’ to him, he was sure that it came off more as a grimace. 

It was only after leaving that he realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. That also explained why his face hurt afterwards. 

Somehow the realization stung like a small dagger to his chest, and even after brushing the thought aside, it still nagged at him. 

Mos Taike was an _old_ city, rundown and scarred by bitter conflict between the Hutts, Tuskens, and pirates. There was hardly anything left… and the only airtraffic was the occasional supply ships for the local shops and single cantina. 

Despite that, the place was well-suited to Obi-Wan’s needs. It was easy to keep a low profile, as though the entire city was in its own bubble, detached from the rest of the galaxy. 

Towards the end of the trip, Obi-Wan had found himself in the city’s only remaining cantina, sipping a small glass of java juice in silence. 

The other—and rather drunk—occupants of the long bar area were staging a shouting match with the bartender, attempting to persuade the man to change the channel. The human bartender wrinkled his nose in distaste and told them to shut up, reminding them that he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. The Empire _required_ them to show the station and that was that. 

And that was how Obi-Wan encountered him—by looking up into a grimy, old holoscreen. 

Darth Vader. 

Of course, he hadn’t initially been able to identify the Sith. The screen—rather than projector—was caked with grime, blurring out the projections to near-comedic levels. So when the network finally began showing images of the fallen apprentice, Obi-Wan only saw the red blade, darkness, and hints of movement. 

But the captions did not lie. 

The bartender was a kind man, and, for better or worse, quite observant. 

He was quick to notice the change in Obi-Wan’s face when the masked Sith appeared onscreen. Even before the Jedi had leapt back from the bar, knocking over the table behind him, the man was on his way to changing the channel. 

Different channel or not, Obi-Wan had paid the man and left in a daze. He couldn’t stand the presence of others while being in such a state of shock. 

It was… too much. 

The journey back to his hut had been a blur—and for many days following, he felt only numbness. 

If he’d gained any ground when it came to acceptance and recovery before… it was gone. 

* * *

  
  


The morning of Obi-Wan’s fourth month in exile dawned in a bright array of pinks and oranges, highlighting the dunes to the East. 

He blinked slowly, eyes aching as he took in the light coming through the nearby, dusty window. It was still early…

_Just another day._

Obi-Wan rolled over to face the wall, feeling the familiar thrum of pain course through his head. 

_Come on Kenobi,_ he told himself, _time to get going._

With a groan, he pushed back the covers. 

  
  


Extracting himself from his bed, Obi-Wan briefly stretched before shrugging on the outer layers of his tunic, noting the ever-growing stiffness in his joints. 

Using the previous-night’s water store, he washed his face and rinsed out his mouth, resisting the urge to sneeze. It was always dusty in the morning, and the fine, airborne powder never ceased to give him hell upon awakening. 

His head still hurt, but he pushed aside the discomfort. It would pass. 

The ache in his throat and the burning sensation in his sinuses, however, he could cure. Uncapping the canteen he always kept on his bedside table, Obi-Wan took a long sip of water, thankful for the cooler he had purchased a while back. 

That and the water reclaimer had been literal lifesavers. 

Exiting the hut, Obi-Wan gazed across the Dune Sea, eyes squinted against the prevailing wind which kicked up small clouds of sand here and there. 

All was quiet, a peaceful morning—a _normal_ morning. 

Sighing, he reluctantly moved his attention to the everyday tasks that needed to be done. 

With practiced ease, he retrieved a small amount of water from the vaporator, giving a generous portion of it to the dewback before retreating back inside. Next, he portioned out the remaining haul, allocating a sizable share to the secondary filtration system built into the cooler. 

That would be enough drinking water for the next few days. The rest would go towards other needs, and the reclaimer would only add to that surplus amount. Maybe he could _actually_ have a legitimate shower soon. 

He snorted at his own wit. 

  
  


After dusting off the counter and table, Obi-Wan finally allowed himself to consider the _other_ half of his life… 

The part of him that was still a Jedi.

With deliberate slowness, Obi-Wan shrugged off his cloak and retrieved his meditation pad. 

It was so much easier to _think_ of meditation than the act itself. 

He stared at the gray cushion as if it could attack him. Dread wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. 

_You’re afraid_ , his mind whispered. _You just don’t want to admit it._

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan lowered himself to the ground, pushing away the anxiety which threatened to bubble up in his throat. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he let his presence expand. 

_Nothing._

Tatooine was a dead planet in the Force, not necessarily dark or ‘evil’, but more like a mind-numbing void. To Obi-Wan, the silence was oppressive.

Ever so slowly, he let the pain and frustration roll off of him, struggling to recenter himself. 

With each passing minute, he began to feel marginally better. 

_Marginally._

He longed for the voices, the small specks of light which had constantly hummed around him back at the Temple. Even other planets, Naboo, Florrum, Felucia—places he’d travelled to over the years—had possessed such energy. 

But Tatooine… 

  
  


Taking a deep breath, he tried to dig deeper, but found the memories waiting for him. Gut twisting, he backed off, retreating back into the safety of his mental shields. 

Meditation within the Force still eluded him, a striking barrier in his recovery. The pain of Anakin Skywalker—and his legacy—was like a demon in his mind. It was a darkness which ate at his strength, whispering for him to give it all up and waste away in the shadows. 

The problem was that he _knew_ he had to face those ghosts one day… and it was only _after_ he made peace with them, that could he find some semblance of peace. 

Recently, he’d awakened twice with the urge to call out to his former-apprentice, to remind the man of some duty or task—and even his Grandpadawan. 

Once, he’d even moved to sprint across his quarters, bent on jotting down an idea on a spare datapad. It had been a silly message for Padme and Ahsoka before they left for their mission…

He’d made it nearly two steps before realizing that he no longer had a ‘spare’ datapad, and that the mission had long-since passed

And Padme was dead. 

  
  


_It’s all over_ , Obi-Wan told himself. _Focus on the here and now._

For a while, he sat in silence, focusing only on his breathing, reaching inwards instead of balancing himself in the Force. It was easier to find his heartbeat, to feel the blood as it flowed through his body, than to grapple with the void beyond. 

And it was the only thing he could do… 

_But maybe this time, I can try going farther._

He was tempted, even as his mind whispered that it was a bad idea. 

Ever so slightly, he began to lower his mental shields—

Obi-Wan’s breath caught as he felt his internal balance shift. 

_No—no_. 

A memory surfaced. While it wasn’t a bad one—to say—it still was enough to rudely haul him back to the present. 

_The holoprojector in Mos Taike, sparking and hazy from age._

_The Imperial insignia._

_Luminara._

_Barriss._

_Master Yoda._

_… Ahsoka._

_‘Wanted for treason against the Empire.’_

_The realization that his Grandpadawan was alive and the sense of relief that it brought—_

_—Yellow eyes filled with hate._

— _A lightsaber, the blue so bright that it left shadows in his vision_ —

 _The clawed hand grasping his throat, his own scrabbling at the metallic fingers, nails digging into the man’s glove_ —

Obi-Wan gasped for breath, every muscle in his body tense. 

A hand rose to his chest, gripping a wad of his tunic in a white-knuckled grip. His heart pounded terribly, a painful, irregular beat against his ribcage as a cold sweat beaded across his forehead. 

_Calm._

_There is only the Force_ —

 _Balance_ —

Obi-Wan struggled to his feet. 

The world spun around him, as though he were standing at the center of a maelstrom. Staggering back, he felt his shoulders collide against a nearby wall. Slowly, he slid down its surface until he was back on the floor, head bowed. 

He could almost see them standing there—Anakin and Ahsoka, arms folded, their eyes casting judgment down upon him. 

… Just like how Ahsoka had back on the Republic flagship… 

Scorn. 

Distaste. 

And Anakin next to her, his glowing yellow eyes burning—

Self-pity was right on the edge of his mind like a poison. It would be _so easy_ to let it in… 

  
  


Instead, Obi-Wan drew his knees to his chest and focused on stopping the tremors in his hands. 

  
  


Nearby, a soft chiming met his ears, momentarily pulling his attention back to reality. 

The cooler had finished filtering drinking water. 

Obi-Wan breathed slowly, forcing himself to ignore its call. 

It could wait. 

He had all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy writing all this angsty stuff, not gonna lie, but I’m _super_ excited for the upcoming arc where things will finally pick up a bit!  
> *evil laugh*  
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka and Rex buried themselves in work for the past four months, helping the rebel cell on Rodia prepare for war.  
> Now, they find themselves sitting on a slowly-ticking time bomb.  
> The Empire is coming, and it’s only a matter of time before the invasion begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Lots_ of Legends material in this one! 
> 
> Trying to cut the amount of data/location markers that were present in my first draft was a challenge. Just wayyy to much info that didn't really help the story at all. 
> 
> Some things that might help to keep in mind while reading:  
> [Rodia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Rodia/Legends) has _two_ capital cities: [Equator City](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Equator_City) (commerce) and [Iskaayuma](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Iskaayuma) (industry).
> 
> This link has a [MAP](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Samana) of the Betu continent, which might come in /really/ helpful! 
> 
> \- [Chekkoo Enclave](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chekkoo_Enclave/Legends)
> 
> This chapter also may contain possible **triggers for anxiety**. 
> 
> You can thank Kakashi's depressing backstory and this [Naruto OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpBtgcehS7w) for making this chapter double in size (btw, I actually had to split this chapter into two b/c the original draft started pushing 9k). For real, I ended up dumping all my sad feels into this. Annnnddd I'm rambling, yep. 
> 
>   
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> 

Ahsoka rolled the tightness out of her shoulders, internally groaning at the way her joints popped . 

She was crouched high up in the rafters of a large warehouse. Around her hung a distinctive array of cobwebs which reflected the bluish lanterns that hung just below her perch. 

The little critters used to frighten her, even when she was a Padawan—although she’d never have admitted it. 

Now, it was hard to find  _ anything  _ that could scare her. In her mind, the world had almost become bland…

Ahsoka shifted, briefly tapping into the Force to help keep her balance. The beam shook slightly beneath her feet. 

The cobwebs seemed to wave at her. 

From her vantage point, Ahsoka could easily watch over the small, dimly-lit space nearby. It was easily the most cliche gathering spot she’d ever seen, hidden deep in a sea of large industrial shipping crates—but it served its purpose. 

The only thing was that it reminded her of a scene out of some cheesy holovid. 

The rebels had purged the entire warehouse at some point in time, practically replacing the whole building with new materials and removing any possible listening devices or potential Imperial bugs. 

Of course, the place was already extremely secure. Both she and the rebel leaders knew that. They also, however, acknowledged that it was imperative for the information discussed here stayed secret. 

And so Ahsoka never was short of work, navigating Equator City and guarding sites like this while the info-transfers took place. 

She’d already stood guard over meetings, in this particular location, twice. 

On Ahsoka’s wrist comm system, the chronometer began to glow faintly. It had just passed midnight. 

_ Right.  _

_ The meeting should be starting any minute now. _

She scanned the warehouse through her mask, squinting slightly as the angular lenses caught some glare from the light fixture below. 

Nothing. 

Everyone had remained hidden—as expected. The standard protocol here was to wait until  _ all  _ the delegates arrived to begin. Each participant would send silent pings through a high-security link until everyone checked in. 

Letting out a breath, Ahsoka leaned back against the nearest vertical support beam and folded her arms.

A lot had changed in the four months since they’d arrived here on Rodia—but for better or worse, she couldn’t say. 

She and Rex had almost been instantly caught up in the ‘local rebellion,’ as the Rodians called it. 

In reality, the operation was on a  _ planetary  _ scale. 

The main continent of Betu—which was primarily made up of Equator City and the Chekkoo Enclave—had apparently been prepared for battle since the early years of the Clone Wars. Now, they worked closely with other cities all across the planet to prevent the Empire from gaining a foothold on Rodia. 

Ordinarily, joining the rebellion would have been a long, arduous process. Ahsoka, however, had gained ground through her Jedi contact there, who had immediately taken a great deal of precautions to ensure that both her and Rex’s identities stayed secret. 

To the rebels—and the rest of the world—she was now Ashla Pelles, an ex-bounty hunter, and partner to Maro Kinall—Rex’s alias.

They were mysteries, sticking out among the tight-knit members of Equator City’s rebels, but not in a way which would warrant any kind of serious investigation. The two of them regularly interacted enough with the others to have earned their trust. 

The only difference between them and the rest of the rebels, was the fact that both she and Rex were forced to wear masks at all times. Their faces, after all, weren’t exactly ‘low profile.’ While Ahsoka’s face was still plastered all across the holonet, Rex’s characteristic Clone features had become one of the propaganda symbols of the Republic and would be easily recognizable. 

Ahsoka had also taken to wearing darker clothing, ridding herself of the outfit given by the Mandalorians, in exchange for a dark bodysuit and jacket. 

The only things that she’d kept with her was her shoto and comm set from Mandalore. Anything more than that would’ve attracted too much attention. 

Her goal, after all, was to blend in… 

Even so, the idea of hiding still didn’t sit right with her, and she knew it was also eating away at Rex. 

They were soldiers, both of them. 

And all they could do now was hide. 

The first person detached themselves from the shadows directly across from Ahsoka’s position, moving into the dim light of the circular space below her. 

_ By the looks of it, she’s from the Chekkoo Enclave…  _

Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed. 

She didn’t need the Force to feel the tension in the air. It hung heavily about the meeting place and washed through the Force, amplifying the anxiety Ahsoka already felt in her mind. 

Fear weighed heavily on the ambassador below, as though the woman carried the weight of the world upon her shoulders. 

Suddenly, Ahsoka was very glad that she didn’t have to go down there. As a sentry and bodyguard, it was her job to help maintain security— _ not  _ to get involved with politics. 

And that suited her just fine. 

Somewhere behind her, the Equator City and Iskaayumian ambassadors were still hovering just out of sight. Although the other delegates were important, Ahsoka’s top priority was to protect the safety of those two. 

While Equator City might seem more important to the rebellion on the surface, as it housed the rebel’s main base and contact network, Iskaayumia was the planet’s main industrial center—and had successfully diverted an entire sector of its industry towards the production of weaponry for the rebellion. 

Well… that and the fact that both were capital cities of Rodia. 

Ahsoka sighed. It was late, and she’d already been on duty for nearly eight hours now, guarding different rebellion leaders throughout the day. 

The meetings were always so slow… 

After a few more minutes of waiting, the ambassadors entered the circle, flanked by their respective bodyguards. 

Swallowing her impatience, Ahsoka watched the meeting begin with mild interest. 

Given her former status as a Jedi, she’d been given a surprising amount of clearance within Equator City’s rebel cell. 

It was a position and opportunity that she cherished. 

In many respects, it was her work which held her together. That and Rex’s presence. 

The Iskaayumian ambassador spoke first, her voice low. She was a tall, muscular Rodian woman, wearing a traditional worker’s uniform. Her scaly skin was of a lighter green, and her features chiseled. 

“We have the industrial district working around the clock. As you—” She nodded at the Equator City ambassador, “suggested, we closed the city to any unauthorized travel. We’ve always kept the city inaccessible to civilians, but…” 

Ahsoka leaned forward, intrigued. This was information that would come in handy. 

Hesitating, the Iskaayumian ambassador drew a datapad and pulled up a set of stats that was too small for Ahsoka to read. 

“There’s no possible way for us to catch  _ all  _ outbound travel. In the last two weeks, we’ve tracked  _ two  _ separate, unauthorized departures from the city. One of which we tracked to Equator and intercepted, but the other…” She sighed. 

“It was a modified shuttle. By the time we scanned the ship, it was already too late to catch up. The thing was built for speed, far past anything considered legal by Imperial standards.” 

One of the other ambassadors hummed. “You seem disturbed by this news, huh.” He remarked somewhat scathingly. “It’s possible that it was a bounty hunter—”

He broke off as the Iskaayumian woman shot him a look of pure hatred. 

“I  _ appreciate  _ you trying to stay positive in this scenario, Chattza, but we cannot afford an information leak at this time. I, for one, could easily believe that what we scanned was an Imperial spy vessel, granted special permissions in order to get on and off-planet quickly.” 

The Equator City ambassador folded his arms and shook his head, exchanging a look with the person next to him. Both Rodians’ antennae drooped, betraying their falling spirits. 

“This doesn’t sound good to me. I’d venture a guess that my city has seen information leaks as well, but seeing that we’re meant to be the target…”

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know. We are not on lockdown like you are. It’s impossible to tell.” 

“So… I’m assuming we’re still following the same plan? From what you’re saying, it looks like we should begin the first stages of defense.” The Chekkoo Enclave delegate’s large, starry eyes gazed at the others. 

She seemed to be the calmest, Ahsoka noted. 

The Equator City delegate bowed his head, his greenish complexion paling slightly, “it would seem that we have no other choice. This is certainly a heavy burden...but I will make sure that the preparations are made.”

“Annik,” the Iskaayumian ambassador directed her gaze at the Enclave delegate, “are you prepared to receive that many people? What about the rest of you? We’re talking about a full-scale invasion. Need I remind you that Equator City will almost certainly be destroyed in the process. We will need shelter and supplies for civilians.” 

One of the other delegates spoke up, his voice soft. “I do not know… are you sure that we will have enough time to evacuate that many people from the city? There is a chance that I will have to mobilize as well. From my experience, the Empire does not fight with honor.” 

The same ambassador fixed the Equator City delegate with a piercing look. “I would be willing to do  _ anything  _ to save my people…yours as well, but if it means that I will have to sacrifice my city—I refuse to see them used as hostages or bartering measures. The only way that I can offer my city as refuge is if you can also guarantee that the Empire will focus its efforts on Equator. Otherwise, I cannot take this risk… There are too many places where this could go wrong.” 

A silence fell over the group, one that persisted for some time. 

Ahsoka’s mind drifted and she reached out once again into the Force. It was still just them: herself, the delegates, and the few bodyguards. 

She sighed again, wondering if Rex was seeing any more action than she was here. He was down at the commercial docks, working the shipments with several other rebel teams. 

After a few more minutes of talking stats, the group began to move towards one of the exits. Ahsoka took that as her cue to leave. 

Mind blank, she slipped back to the ground silently. 

As Ahsoka landed, the blaster pistol strapped to her leg shifted, the straps pulling taught as her legs absorbed the force of her fall. The weapon felt foreign, a near-unwelcome presence on her person. 

Through the mask, she looked down at her jacket. 

What would she give to use the shoto, concealed beneath the folds of her dark uniform, just  _ one more  _ time. For months, its role had been reduced to that of a trinket, a comforting weight against her chest. 

It was strange to think that something which had seemed  _ so ordinary  _ in her life, could sentence her to death in seconds. 

She still trained with the shoto multiple times every week—in her quarters, of course, with the blade deactivated. 

But that did little to erase the sense of betrayal Ahsoka felt each time she held the blaster pistol in her hand. 

* * *

The suite that she and Rex shared was a gloomy place, really. It was a metallic cube, buried deep within one of the old factories of Equator City’s industrial complex—now-turned Rebel headquarters. 

At her insistence, her room was just inside the front door. Any and all visitors would have to walk past her to get to the rest of the shared quarters. 

Ahsoka’s bedroll sat in the corner, a cloth tower guarding her meager possessions: a neatly-folded, spare jumpsuit and an old jacket. 

She sighed heavily, leaning into the durasteel wall of her room. The light had come on automatically, bathing the windowless cube in a harsh, white light. 

Ahsoka pulled the mask off of her face. The blessed cool air of her quarters caressed her cheeks. It felt like being reborn. 

She’d spent the entire day in cramped offices and old warehouses, and now… 

Now, it just felt  _ so  _ good to be back in her quarters. 

_ Kriffing hells, I hate this,  _ she thought bitterly.  _ Things would be much easier if I could just lose the mask from time to time. If I didn’t have to hide…  _

Making her way towards the middle of the room, she idly tossed the mask on top of her bedroll and let her knees fall to the floor. 

She was exhausted. 

The light above her was unwavering in its intensity and she looked up into its blinding depths. 

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes against its brilliance. She both loved and hated that damned light fixture. 

Not that it didn’t do its job—it was, by all means, a perfectly good light. 

Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined herself sitting in her quarters back on the  _ Resolute _ . That Venator ship still held a special place in her heart. It had been her first assigned ship, well, Anakin’s to be specific. 

Every Venator ship had the same kind of interior lights in their crew quarters. 

_ Of course _ , the things which brought back the most memories, were the menial things—the parts of her life that she never thought about in detail until  _ after  _ the great purge. 

Blinking away the residual shadows which danced across her vision, Ahsoka leaned back onto the durasteel tiles, pushing the helmet aside in order to rest her head on the bedroll. 

Unlacing her dark gauntlets with fumbling fingers, she roughly threw them back behind her. The metallic plating clattered against the wall. She stripped off her gloves, moments later, and tossed them as well. 

_ Four months…  _

_ I’ve been living like this for four months.  _

__

Ahsoka couldn’t believe it. 

Maybe  _ that  _ was the problem. Maybe that was why she felt so… different. 

Was it denial? 

Or maybe the…  _ weird  _ feeling was just a byproduct of her adjusting to Rodia… 

Ahsoka fiddled with the bedroll’s straps, winding and unwinding it around her fingers. 

Rex was worried, and he’d voiced that concern on multiple occasions. He’d hit the nail right on the head every single time, of course, but the underlying issue of Ahsoka’s own current state… wasn’t exactly something that she was all that willing to fix yet. 

Or rather, she  _ couldn’t _ —not then and not now… 

After the Jedi purge, Ahsoka had developed a habit of shoving away the memories and pain—ignoring the way it ate at her emotional core like poison… 

Rex, himself, had reacted quite differently to the rise of the Empire—in a way which Ahsoka secretly envied. Rather than bottling up his emotions, he’d chosen a far more open route and vocalized his grief from time to time, often requesting privacy when the pain grew too great for him to bear. 

Ahsoka respected Rex for that, and always would. 

He had begun to recover from the loss of his brothers and the terrible betrayal over time. The Clone Captain was  _ far  _ from healed. Ahsoka suspected that the trauma would never quite heal. 

But Ahsoka hadn’t even started processing it all. It was still so raw… So…  _ dark _ … 

Deep down, she was terrified of that pain. It was a monster that she could not even hope to grasp or control, a demon inside her that sat patiently in waiting. 

She’d found that it was so,  _ so  _ easy to fall into a mental rut, to cling onto the terrible memories and never let go… It was like stepping into a river with a powerful current. One silly misstep and she would whisked away, right back into that dark void of grief, pain, anger, and guilt. 

The guilt… 

Of all things, by the Force, it was  _ that  _ which haunted her every waking moment. 

The guilt for everything she’d done  _ wrong _ . 

The regrets—

Ahsoka pinched herself hard, shaking her head to try and clear it. The room seemed to darken slightly as she struggled to stay in the present. 

_ No.  _

_ You’re here.  _

_ Wake up, Ahsoka.  _

She binked, and almost could see the lower hangar in front of her, its high ceiling and well-lit space, Obi-Wan standing in front of her with his look of disapproval—

_ Wake up! _

Choking back a cry, Ahsoka rolled over, her momentum helping propel the punch which she sent towards the nearest wall. 

She wasn’t afraid of pain, she wasn’t afraid of the way that her knuckles would collide with the metal, she…

Her fist was less than a centimeter from the shining durasteel, frozen. 

The blank facade of an expression she’d been holding, crumpled. A sob left her lips and she curled inwards, tucking her knees to her chest. Face buried beneath her arms, she struggled to control her breathing. 

“Why am I like this?” She whispered. 

The Force pulsed slightly. 

_ Rex.  _

Ahsoka sank her teeth into her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she rolled back over and sprawled out, assuming a false expression of disinterest. 

It wasn’t that she  _ resented  _ showing emotion in front of the Clone Captain… But she was still not comfortable talking while in such a bad headspace. It would push her over the edge in seconds. 

The door slid open and Rex stepped in. She waved at him, hauling herself into a sitting position. 

Immediately after the lock clicked back into place, he pulled off the mask. 

Both of them had lost weight since the fall of the Jedi, but it was far more apparent on Rex’s face than hers. She secretly was worried about him, but didn’t know how to address the fact, especially when they were surviving off of the same ration packs. 

And besides, how could she ask him to take care of his health when both of them found it impossible to finish the provided food portions?

Either way, Rex’s eyes had lost their telltale sparkle and his cheekbones jutted from his face more than ever, emphasizing his hollowed cheeks. He rarely smiled now, not that Ahsoka could actually  _ see  _ through the bounty hunter mask that he wore… 

Rex rubbed the back of his head with a gloved hand and walked farther into the room. He looked tired, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper than ever. 

Like her, the Clone Captain had chosen darker clothing to help blend into the crowd. He wore a set of baggy pants, much like that of a hangar technician back in the GAR, and a dark green jacket that reminded Ahsoka oddly of Saw Gerrera. Between that and the dark-brown bounty hunter helmet, he was unrecognizable. 

“How was it?” Ahsoka asked, looking up at him.

He grimaced, “exhausting. The lower docks are full of civilians, so any shipments we get from Iskaayuma have to be relabeled and diverted through three different docking bays to avoid suspicion. From there, they have to be sorted  _ again _ .” 

Ahsoka winced. 

He held his hands, “Look, I’m not exactly complaining. I think it’s nice to be busy. But, you know, after hours of the same process… it can get frustrating—and the people certainly get more curious over time.” 

Rex pulled open the door to the other half of their suite and entered the small adjacent alcove between their rooms, moving towards the fresher. 

Ahsoka heard the faucet activate and watched as Rex’s jacket flew through the open door and into his separate quarters. 

“Commander,” Rex stuck his head around the doorway after a moment, still toweling off his face. “We need to talk soon about—” 

Ahsoka felt her stomach clench. 

“Well, you know what it is…” 

Rex’s voice trailed off and he sighed heavily, moving around the doorframe until he could lean against it comfortably. Towel still wrapped around his neck, he stared at her. 

She didn’t want to talk about it—hell, the idea of trying to predict the future was a massive headache. But they  _ had _ to discuss it at some point. 

“You know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time until the Empire gets here.” 

Ahsoka closed her eyes and exhaled softly. 

Slowly, she shrugged off her jacket and removed the shoto blade from a small, hand-sewn pocket she’d added to its inner lining. She blinked at the metallic hilt in her palm before placing it next to her bedroll. 

“Yes,” she admitted—more to herself than to Rex. 

The Clone Captain sank down to the floor, propping himself in the doorframe with his feet braced against the other side. 

“Did you hear anything of value from the briefing?” 

It was another one of their ‘untold’ agreements that all classified information that they learned while undercover was to be shared—especially if it pertained to their safety. 

They were in this together. 

A team. 

Ahsoka looked at him and shrugged hopelessly, “they’re always saying the same thing—over and over.  _ Always  _ preparing, no matter what.” 

Rex nodded grimacing. “I thought as much.” 

“I got more details on the plan this time.” She continued softly, “it’s as we suspected. Looks like the rebels are going to purposely set up Equator City as the target and evac the civilian population East once the Empire moves in.”

Ahsoka paused to catch her breath and took the time to pull her bedroll into her lap. She rested her elbows on its soft surface. 

“From what I gathered, the other cities have already prepped space to take the refugees.” Ahsoka continued. “My guess is that the Enclave will take most of them, but one of the ambassadors seemed to hint that there are bunkers as well.” 

“Tactically, it makes sense,” Rex pulled the towel from his neck and fiddled with one of the seams. “They’re protecting Iskaayuma at all costs. If that city falls, then they lose their industrial center—all weapons production and income, gone.”

“The Iskaayumian delegate was there tonight,” Ahsoka leaned her head back. “I could tell she was trying to stay positive… But there’s _ no way  _ that the Empire won’t strike them first. Already, she thinks that they’ve had an info-leak—they had an unauthorized departure earlier.”

“We have two cities on this continent, Equator and Samana. They  _ both  _ have large local defense forces and Iskaayuma has nothing, to my knowledge at least…” Rex said, his voice trailing off. 

Ahsoka offered another shrug. 

Rex hummed thoughtfully, “I wonder how they’re going to get the Empire to target Equator. Did you get any hints?” He looked at her. 

Ahsoka shook her head. “If they have a plan, it’s above my clearance.” 

A silence fell between them. 

Ahsoka maneuvered herself so that she could lean against the wall. There, she closed her eyes and breathed. 

Mentally, she berated herself for getting comfortable on Rodia. Everything was slowly coming apart at the seams. 

Just coming to the planet in the first place had been an enormous risk. And that wasn’t even counting the fact that they’d both  _ joined  _ an active rebellion. 

She’d sat here, working from the shadows for four months. 

And now she was standing on a ticking time bomb. 

The Empire was coming—everyone knew it. After the fall of the Republic, the question had never been ‘if they were going to invade,’ but  _ ‘when.’  _

They were drawing in the tension, the anxiety and anticipation for that attack. It was impending doom for Equator City. 

So far, Rodia’s only saving grace was the fact that it was on the Outer Rim. The Empire had several higher-priority planets to conquer first. But once the Inner and Mid-Rim planets were out of the equation—Rodia was almost certainly at the top of their list. 

Rex broke the silence first, his voice heavy. “Commander—” 

She stared at him, raising an eyebrow. He  _ still  _ called her that, even after they’d been through—even after she’d left the Order and surrendered her post. 

_ Even after the fall of the Jedi…  _

“—Ahsoka.” He snorted softly, clearly finding a small amount of humor in her persistence. 

“We’ve been here for four months now, and I know that we have been able to help this rebellion as best as we can… But is this where you really want to be? You know, when the Empire gets here?” 

Ahsoka felt exhaustion creep back into her limbs and weighing down every bone in her body. 

“Rex—” Her voice cracked slightly and she swallowed, cursing her own vocal chords. 

He looked away and she felt a stab of guilt run through the Force.

Rex hated this. 

And she did too. 

They were being backed into a corner. Slowly. 

_ Or were we already cornered?  _ Ahsoka asked herself. 

She shoved away the train of thought before it took her mind down that rabbit hole. 

Rex shifted slightly where he sat. 

Ahsoka could feel his discomfort even  _ without  _ the aid of her Jedi training. His body language and eyes gave it all away. Even after years serving together on the front lines, she could read him—but now they were closer, clinging to one another because they were the only ones left… 

“I’ve been observing some of the upper-ranked rebel leaders—at least when they come to the docks,” Rex said quietly. “I  _ still  _ don’t trust them. The more I think about it, the more I believe that we’ve only been allowed to stay here because of our status.”

His eyes came up to meet Ahsoka’s. 

“My gut keeps telling me that we—or rather,  _ you _ —are only being allowed to stay as long as you are useful to them.”

Ahsoka bowing her head, nodding. 

That train of thought had certainly crossed her mind more than once, particularly when her rank had come up in the initial few days of negotiation with the rebellion. Something had always felt… off… even after they’d accepted  _ both  _ of them. 

Suddenly, the idea of their future seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders. 

There was so much that they didn’t know. 

This wasn’t just  _ her  _ fight—but Rex’s as well. And if he was right about the rebels here… there was a chance that they’d already lost their chance to leave the planet. 

_ If he’s right—what do they want from me? Will I become a bartering tool?  _

_ We knew, right from the very beginning, that the Rodians were willing to go to extreme lengths to fight the Empire.  _

_ This is my fault.  _ Her heart sank even further.  _ I wanted to stay, I was the one who convinced him that we could find refuge here…  _

Rex looked like he was about to continue, but Ahsoka cut him off. 

“What do  _ you  _ think we should do?” She asked softly. “I… know that in the past, you said that you’d follow my lead, even though you were against coming here. It’s your life as well as mine that we’re talking about.”

Her eyes hardened. “And we’re staying together, no matter what.” 

He looked at her. 

For a moment, he seemed conflicted. 

Finally, he shook his head. 

“I don’t know, Ahsoka.” 

Bowing her head, Ahsoka heaved a sigh. “Same here.” 

Turning away, she gently tossed her bedroll off to the side. 

“The Empire will do exactly what the Republic would’ve done, and we both know that. They have all the technology that we had, and our tactics. So unless they miraculously start using a new system, they’ll blockade the whole damn planet  _ first _ . And at that point, there won’t be a single way off this rock.” 

Ahsoka’s voice sounded tired and raw, even to her own ears. 

“We have the option of running into the wild, of course, but who knows how long we’d last. And besides, I know that we could help save  _ so many  _ people if we stay here on Rodia. The rebels will need us… I just…” 

Conflict was tearing at her chest, building on the existing guilt and pain which had chained her down for months. 

She didn’t want to say it out loud—the fact that it would likely be their last stand. The end of the line. 

The idea of dying seemed so… different now. Something had changed in her heart the moment that she’d seen the faces plastered all over the holonet, the Jedi—the villains of history. 

For so long, even as a Youngling, the idea of death had been associated with being a hero. She’d thrown herself into conflict, willing to lose everything for those around her. 

There was still no question to it, she’d die for Rex. She was her friend, family, for Force’s sake. But it was that small voice in her head that whispered into her fears. 

If she died now, she would be leaving him alone. And if, somehow, he lost his life… 

Suddenly everything seemed overwhelming. 

Her chest constricted terribly, choking her. Ahsoka fought back a gasp as unshed tears pushed painfully against the back of her eyes. 

Rex noticed the change in her expression and quickly put two and two together. He started to come closer, a hand raised in a comforting gesture, but Ahsoka shook her head. 

“I’m… okay.” 

It was a lie, but he reluctantly accepted it nonetheless. 

Closing her eyes, Ahsoka numbly reached for her jacket and shrugged it over her shoulders, placing her lightsaber back in its protected pocket. Fingers closing around the edge of her mask, she pulled it over her face. 

“I’m going to get some air, I’ll be right back.” The modulator in the mask distorted her voice slightly into more of a digital snarl. 

In the Force, she could feel Rex’s presence. He seemed taken aback, and she instantly regretted her words. 

“I’m sorry, Rex…” She breathed, guilt twisting in the pit of her stomach, “that didn’t… come out how I hoped it would. I just need a minute. We need to talk about this… but…” 

He looked up at her and nodded, eyes softening. 

The Clone Captain’s understanding sparked in the Force. His empathy and willingness to accept her emotional outburst nearly caused her to break down on the spot. 

“Well, I might as well get a quick shower while you’re out.” He jerked his head towards the ‘fresher with a half-smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes, but she appreciated the gesture. 

  
  


Ahsoka stepped towards the exit, but stopped as she felt Rex’s hand on her shoulder. “Commander, please… be careful.” 

She nodded. “I will, don’t worry.” 

Rex looked at her for a moment before retreating into the other room. 

Seconds later, the ‘fresher door closed with a quiet hiss. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Any and all news concerning updates on this fic can be found on my [Tumblr](https://lazarusii.tumblr.com/).  
> As always, may the Force be with you <3 and I hope you have an amazing rest of your week!


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